


Water Rescue

by Engineer104



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Familiars, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Mages, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, very little tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: They start as strangers, but one day they may grow to be something more...familiar





	1. The Lake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rueitae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/gifts).



> okay okay okay so this is a three-part fic i wrote because i was inspired by [Rueitae's](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/) mage!Pidge and dragon!Lance AU over on tumblr. you can read the two independent parts to that [here](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/post/173207616645/plance-may-10-because-any-date-with-significance%20) and [here](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/post/173340411735/plance-may-24-magicfantasy-inappropriate-use?is_related_post=1)
> 
> this fic itself was also posted on tumblr, and you can find the very first part (corresponding to the first chapter) [here](https://sp4c3-0ddity.tumblr.com/post/173332737823/water-rescue)
> 
> and without further ado...enjoy!! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge encounters someone she doesn't expect

Pidge’s feet sank into the marsh. The ground soaked up the fresh rain like a sponge and would soak into her stockings too if she wasn’t wearing rain boots. Her progress was slow as she trudged through the marshes towards the bank of the lake, a basket for collecting new plant growth swinging from her elbow.

Her heart skipped a beat when the sun glinted off  _scales_ , nearly indiscernible from the lake’s surface. Then a stream of water burst upward, and Pidge followed it with her eyes.

 _Not a fish,_ she realized.  _Definitely not a fish._

Pidge inhaled, bracing herself, and stepped closer to the bank to investigate. She hid in a cluster of weeds with their stems protruding from the lake’s shallows, short enough that even her hat wouldn’t be visible over the weeds. Concealed in her green world, Pidge pushed the fronds aside and peered out.

Small splashes blasted from the lake, drops of water glittering as they fell back down. And right behind them a large head emerged, squirting two thin streams of water from nostrils. 

Dark blue scales on the crown of the dragon’s head caught the sunlight while paler scales trailed down its face and along the underside of its neck. But that was all Pidge could spot before it dove back into the lake, a long tail swishing behind it.

Pidge watched the dragon play, eyes wide and captivated. She forgot why she came to the lake while the dragon splashed around, thin membranous wings skimming waves where there were none.

Her breath caught in her throat when the dragon’s jaws parted with a low roar that sounded almost  _cheerful_ , and she leaned forward, almost poking her head out of the weeds. She put too much weight on the weeds, and when water started to fill her boots, Pidge fell forward with a gasp.

Heart jumping, she flailed her arms, seeking purchase, but the lake gave way under her hands. Water filled her nostrils and mouth and eyes, the environment turning blue and green around her. She lashed out with her feet, trying to find the ground again, but the lake’s bottom dropped off just beyond her hiding place.

Water made her throat burn and vision blur, and Pidge struggled to kick up. But her soaked clothes were heavy on her frame, and the light overhead so far away…

Something snagged at the back of her shirt, and for a heart-stopping, panicked moment Pidge fought it, thinking a tree branch caught in the lake bed snagged her. But then her heart rose into her throat, and with a splash air - blessed  _air_  - swept over her face.

Pidge coughed water out of her lungs and snorted it out of her nostrils. She blearily opened her eyes, concerned that no ground - wet or dry - lay under her feet or hands…only to be met with the sight of the lake’s surface spread out beneath her.

“Ah—”

“Please don’t scream,” a deep voice said from above her. “I  _did_  just save your life.”

Pidge’s heart pounded as she gazed down at the lake. She wanted to look up, but a part of her wasn’t prepared for what she knew she’d see. “Please don’t drop me,” she said instead.

“Why would I do that?” the dragon wondered. “I’d just waste the time I spent fishing you out of the lake.”

Pidge bit back a flash of irritation. “Thank you,” she said. “Now can you please set me down?”

“On the lake? Uh, well, I hate to remind you that you  _just_  failed at walking on water.”

“No, not on the lake!” Pidge snapped, thrashing - or  _trying_  to - in the dragon’s grip. She ended up swinging instead, and when she felt herself slipping she bit back a scream.

“Hey, we’re almost to the other bank!” the dragon quickly reassured her. “Let me just…” It adjusted its grip, a pair of large, clawed hands wrapping around her middle.

Smooth scales scraped against the soft skin of her abdomen where her shirt had ridden up. They were warmer than she expected, especially after spending time in a cool, freshwater lake, and though the tip of a claw sat just over her heart, Pidge couldn’t summon much fear.

Shock, she decided. Between falling into the lake and being rescued by a dragon, all she felt was _shock_.

When the dragon gently set her down, Pidge, exhausted and waterlogged, collapsed onto the ground - right before recoiling at the soft dampness of the earth. She sat up and patted her head.

“I lost my hat,” she complained.

The dragon touched down beside her, the tip of its tail sending ripples over the lake’s surface. “Really?” It extended its head towards her, so close she imagined its breath warming her face. Blue eyes with slitted pupils blinked at her, and it said, “I think you look better without it.”

Pidge flushed, and she got to her feet. “What?”

The dragon snorted, tossing its head into the air. “You don’t think I noticed you spying on me?” It made a strange wheezing sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Please, I put on a show just for you, small mage.”

Pidge gaped at it, but when she shook herself from her stupor she retorted, “The hat’s not for  _fashion_ , dragon. I use it to keep the sun off my face.” She had to look up slightly to meet the dragon’s eyes while squinting against the sun.

The dragon narrowed its eyes at her, then stepped sideways until it cast its shadow over Pidge. “Better?”

She rubbed her eyes and grudgingly nodded. And now that she could see without the sun blinding her, she took in the creature before her. Its body was streamlined and slender, with a wingspan twice its length from snout to tail, with dark scales that glittered along its back and paler ones on its belly. It crouched with its forelegs folded beneath it, tail lazily skimming the lake, and its gaze was fixed on Pidge.

“Well,” Pidge said, clearing her throat and bouncing on her feet, “thank you for the rescue. It might’ve been more effective if you’d taken me to the  _other_  bank, but no matter.” She smiled, despite her discomfort, and raised a hand in a wave.

But before she could spin around and begin her long walk back home, the dragon pinched the hem of her shirt between two claws and tugged her closer.

“At least tell me your name before you leave.”

Pidge stared at it, surprised. “Why? It’s not like we’ll see each other again.”

“Why do you think that?” It tilted its head to the side, almost childlike with the gesture.

“Because I’ve never seen dragons around here,” Pidge explained, shrugging. “I just assumed you were stopping by and wanted a rest…or to play.”

The scales around the dragon’s neck rose, like a cat raising its hackles, and for a second Pidge worried she’d said something wrong…at least until the dragon covered its face with a hand.

It was  _embarrassed_ , she realized in shock.

“I’d never swam in fresh water before,” the dragon confessed. “I wanted to see how different it was to brine.”

Pidge crossed her arms. “And did you?”

“Yes.” The dragon bowed its head and grumbled, “I couldn’t float on my back so well.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“ _And_  it’s colder,” it said. “How are you not shivering right now?”

Pidge raised her arms, examining the way her clothes still hung wetly off her. “It’s almost summer,” she said, “and I  _don’t_ think it’s cold.”

“Humans are strange,” the dragon observed without missing a beat.

She snorted. “Well, dragons  _are_  cold-blooded, right?”

“Some of us are,” the dragon conceded, tapping its jaw with a claw. “I’m not though.”

“What?”

Its lips curled into what might’ve been a smirk, a fang poking out. “I take after my mother’s side,” it said. “Our blood runs a little hotter, but we still love the heat just as much as a cold-blooded dragon.”

“Huh,” Pidge said. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m Pidge, by the way, and since I gave you  _my_ name…” She pointedly narrowed her eyes at it.

“Oh, the name’s Lance.” It rested a hand against its chest and bowed its head. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mage Pidge.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “Just Pidge is fine, but anyway, I’ll be on my way now.” She turned her back to the dragon, then tossed back, “Lots to do, you see.”

“At least let me take you home since I brought you to the wrong side,” the dragon said, padding after her.

“I wouldn’t want to take you from—” Pidge squinted at it, noting its twitching tail, then took stock of the lack of strength in her limbs.

She’d collapse less than halfway around the lake, and she’d be lucky to wake up before the marsh swallowed her.

“Just don’t drop me in the lake,” she said with a sigh, raising her arms so the dragon’s hands could wrap around her again.

It sat back on its haunches and cradled her close to its warm chest, where the scales were smoother, even almost  _soft_. “Please, Pidge,” it said. “If I can catch sharks without letting them slip through my fingers and carry them back hundreds of leagues to shore, then I can hold onto you for the few miles from here to the opposite side.”

“Wait,  _sharks_?”

Pidge gasped as the dragon launched itself into the air, powerful wings fanning out and flapping a few times until they caught the currents. Her heart jumped into her throat, but rather than struggle to calm herself like before, this time the view of the lake below made an awestruck smile spread across her face.

“Direct me to where you live,” Lance said.

Pidge pointed ahead. “Fly that way,” she said. “It’ll be the only cottage at the top of that hill at the edge of the marsh.”

“So far from the lake?”

“I can see the lake from my kitchen window,” Pidge said.

“Oh, very nice,” Lance said. “It might be worth staying the night then.”

Pidge’s eyes widened, but before she could ask the dragon what it meant, it began its descent.

Its rear claws skimmed the lake, throwing up a mist that spread over Pidge’s face. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of the spray of water and air sweeping past overtake her senses. But when Lance took off again, her stomach shifting with the motion, she opened her eyes and watched the lake shrink into a pond beneath them.

 _Is Lance…showing off to me?_ Her face warmed at the irrational thought, but she couldn’t quite shake it once it took hold.

Once they crossed the lake’s opposite bank, Lance spiraled down until they drifted towards a hill. Its wing beats rustled the tall grass, the chimes hanging from the cottage’s porch filling the air with tuneless music.

Lance let her go when her feet touched the floor, but before she could head for the safety of her home, the dragon stood beside her. “So what’s for dinner?” it asked.

Pidge blinked at it. “What?”

“You going to invite me in?” It tucked its wings close to its body. “I  _did_  fly you twice, and the first time it was to save your life.”

Pidge flapped her jaws uselessly, then blurted, “You’re too big to fit.”

“Oh, am I?” The dragon grinned its fanged dragon grin. “Watch this, Pidge.”

She stared with wide eyes as the dragon reared up on its hind legs, forelegs at its side. Then its body  _shrunk_ , folding in on itself until a figure a little more than a head taller than Pidge stood before her.

The dragon - the  _man_  - rested its - or his? - hands on his hips, a smirk on his dark face. “See?” He raised his arms, scales in the crooks of his elbows catching sunlight. “I look just like a man!” Except for the light blue scales glittering underneath his eyes, Pidge noted, and, as her gaze drifted down almost against her will, on his abdomen.

Pidge tore her eyes away from Lance, a livid blush on her face and neck, and once she stood with her back to him she said in a strangled voice, “Do you want to borrow some clothes?”

She heard rather than saw Lance drop his arms against his sides. “Oh, right, humans prefer to walk around clothed,” he mused. “If it makes you more comfortable—”

“It does.”

“—then I’ll take some clothes.”

Pidge nodded and dashed into her cottage, only pausing to tug off her dirty boots just inside the doorway. She sprinted to her bedroom, nearly tripping over the long tendrils of a vine just long enough to extend to the floor, and dug through a drawer, searching for the clothes her brother left behind last time he visited.  _Conveniently_ , she thought. If he hadn’t forgotten them then Lance would be stuck borrowing  _her_  clothes.

After finding a pair of trousers and a shirt, she returned to find Lance standing in her sunlit workroom, blessedly with his back to her. He gazed around, picking jars and bottles up at random for inspection and nudging a few potted plants with his toes, but at the sound of Pidge’s footsteps he glanced over his shoulder and smiled.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Pidge threw the clothes at Lance before he could turn to face her, then she ran back out of the workroom and into the kitchen. “Get dressed in the  _bedroom_!” she called to him. “That’s where I mix potions for people to  _consume_ , Lance!”

“Well, I drink my bathwater!” Lance retorted.

Pidge gagged. “What?”

“All right, I’m just joking,” Lance admitted, “seeing as I don’t take baths.”

“Right, because your scales shine that much without attention to keeping them clean,” Pidge said, skeptical.

“Aw, Pidge, do you think my scales are shiny?”

Pidge covered her face with her hands, biting back a frustrated scream. “Can you just hurry up and get dressed?”

“Look, I’m done!” When his voice sounded closer, she peeked in time to see him emerging from her workroom. He tugged at the collar of the shirt, which fit too tightly over his shoulders. But Pidge was relieved to see the trousers, at least, were the right length, even if it seemed he left the front unlaced.

Well, she couldn’t expect a dragon to know  _exactly_  how to masquerade as a human.

“You don’t spend much time around humans, do you?” Pidge asked, crossing her arms.

Lance flushed. “I do not, but I  _have_  talked to some.” He grinned. “Mostly fishermen. Interesting bunch. They taught my brother’s children  _so many_ curse words.”

Pidge laughed and beckoned for him to come into the kitchen. “I don’t keep much meat, but I do have some dried fish from last time I went fishing. Would you eat a stew?”

“I actually  _don’t_  eat just meat, Pidge.” He joined her in the kitchen, seamlessly weaving around the plants that cluttered the floor, while she poked through her cupboards. “Dragons have a very well-rounded diet.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, I love this…thing.” He reached over her and pulled a yellow squash off the shelf.

“It’s a squash,” Pidge told him, smirking as she took it. “I grow them in the garden, and thanks to my magic I can grow them year-round.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, really? Why don’t you show me then?”

Pidge blinked, taken aback by his request. “What?”

He gestured around the kitchen, to all the living, breathing plants in her cottage. “Make something grow.”

Pidge stared between him and a small pot of soil sitting underneath the kitchen window. A few days ago she’d planted a few marigold seeds into it, a hint of green only just peeking out of the soil. The young life within it called to her, begging for energy, and Pidge longed to give it.

 _Never use your magic for frivolous reasons,_ her father warned her more times than she could count, most recently before she left home to live here alone against her parents’ wishes.  _You never know when you’ll need it to save your life._

Pidge took a deep breath and reached for the marigold lurking in the soil. She touched the soft dirt, felt the life only just beginning from seeds, could sense the marigold’s purpose.

How did it already know?

Pidge exhaled, green points sparking around her fingers at the transfer. The marigold greedily soaked up the magic, stem and leaves emerging from the soil. A bud formed at the end of a stem, and as Pidge fixed her energy on it, it spread and bloomed into a small orange flower.

“Wow,” Lance breathed, voice full of something like admiration.

Pidge wiped the sweat from her brow and looked at him while a smile pushed at her lips. “I wouldn’t usually waste all that magic on a marigold though,” she admitted.

“You didn’t have to do that for me, Pidge,” Lance said, his eyes widening in surprise.

She shrugged. “It’s not that hard.” Then she moved past him and started pulling more ingredients for a fish stew out of the cupboards. “Now, could you make yourself useful and gather some firewood from the pile in the back?”

Lance rolled his eyes but left to complete the task she set him. Pidge then set up her cauldron - the one she used for cooking - and chopped vegetables into it (she made sure to put more squash than she usually preferred).

When Lance returned with a few logs in his arms, she directed him to set them in the fireplace.

“Can you light it too?” she wondered, already adding a few pinches of spices to their dinner. “Should be easy for you, since—”

“Ah, well, that is one thing I did  _not_  inherit from my mother.”

Pidge glanced at him, surprised. “Oh, then do you know how to use flint and steel?”

Lance smirked. “That I can do.”

Once the fire was lit and merrily burning wood in the fireplace, Lance helped her position the cauldron over it, hanging it from a hook. He happily stirred, but Pidge wasn’t sure if he offered just so he could sneak a few tastes before the stew cooked properly.

The fire filled the cottage with heat, though beyond the walls the sun started to set over the lake while the sky darkened. But the light inside made Lance’s scales glint with a warmer, orange light, and Pidge found herself staring more times than she could count.

“It’s boiling,” Lance said.

Pidge shook herself out of yet another stupor. “What?”

Lance nodded towards the cauldron. “It’s bubbling. That means it’s ready, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Pidge agreed. She retrieved a ladle, two bowls, and two spoons, and once everything was set she and Lance sat at the tiny table shoved up against the wall and overburdened with potted plants like every other surface in her cottage.

“Nice place you got, Pidge,” Lance observed. “So many plants, and so green…” He brandished his spoon at her. “And good stew too. I think I like squash.”

Pidge smirked, then said, “I thought dragons preferred to cook their food.”

“We do,” Lance said, “but usually we’re pretty simple and just roast it in a fire.” He smiled and spooned a few more bites of fish stew into his mouth. “Maybe you’d like to try it sometime.”

She laughed and tapped her spoon on the edge of her bowl. “As long as I don’t almost drown again.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” Lance said. “Not when I’m there to rescue you, of course.”

Pidge flushed, then frowned at her bowl, wondering if they’d let it cook for too long.

“Also I think I like spices,” Lance continued, as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction. “Maybe I should take some back home with me.”

Pidge’s head shot up and she stared at him, but she stopped herself before she could utter anything surprised. Of  _course_  he was leaving again! What was he to her except a dragon that fished her out of a lake when she was stupid enough to spy on him?

The thought still made her heart heavy, and she pushed stew around her bowl, appetite vanishing.

She jumped at the sensation of something brushing against her foot, and when she looked up her eyes met Lance’s.

He frowned at her. “You all right, Pidge?”

She gaped at him. “Uh, yes, I am. Just a little tired.”

But then, why should she be so unhappy about Lance leaving? She’d been reluctant to invite him in, and they were still virtual strangers!

And yet…

“I’ll help you clean up,” Lance said. He pushed his chair back, the scraping of its legs against the floor tugging Pidge from her thoughts, and stood.

“Thank you,” Pidge said, following suit.

They cleaned mostly in silence. And when the fire burned low in the hearth and night set in outside, Pidge lit a few candles. Then she asked, “Did you really only come here because you wanted to swim in fresh water?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I kind of just wanted to explore beyond my family’s territory. It’s a big world out there.” He scratched his chin, averting his gaze. “Swimming in freshwater was another thing I wanted to do before I went back.”

“Oh,” Pidge said. She thought of her own family, still living in her hometown, surrounded by people. Unlike here, where she lived isolated except for a village some leagues away, they had friends and connections.

“Nearly drowning and feeling  _lonely_?” she muttered, low enough that she hoped Lance wouldn’t hear. “Now I’m just proving my parents’ point.”

“About…?”

Pidge blinked, cheeks warm with embarrassment as she admitted, “They thought living alone this far away from anyone else was a bad idea.”

“Why  _did_  you come out here?” Lance wondered.

Pidge tapped her fingertips to the counter. “I wanted some space to work my magic,” she said. “Sometimes I work better alone, or surrounded by nature, and I couldn’t get that at home.”

“Well, you can always visit, right?” Lance pointed out.

She smiled and agreed, “Right. It’s a little far though.”

“Not as the dragon flies.” Lance smirked.

Pidge couldn’t help reading something - perhaps a promise - into his words, and her heartbeat sped up. “Prove it,” she challenged.

“One day, Pidge,” he said, “but not tonight.” He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Now, uh, do you mind if I spend the night?” Lance asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Transforming like this takes a lot of energy.”


	2. The Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge returns to her hometown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as the first chapter, the Part Two that corresponds to this chapter was originally posted [here](https://sp4c3-0ddity.tumblr.com/post/173780125748/water-rescue-part-two)

Pidge entered her hometown around sunset, right as mages specializing in fire started igniting the lamps that lined the streets. Shadows bent in odd shapes around the corners of buildings, but despite the time the roads didn’t empty, many people still going about their business.

The leftover tomatoes in a nearby grocer’s stall called to her, and from the words they spoke Pidge knew they grew too ripe. They sought the ground, to either sprout into vines and yield fruit of their own, or to decompose while their matter became a part of something else.

They reeked of the exhaustion that came before rot.

Pidge drifted towards them without thinking about it, already reaching into her money pouch for a few coins. “How much for all your tomatoes?” she asked the grocer.

He had his back to her when she spoke, so turned and regarded her with a frown. “What’re you going to do with all these tomatoes when they’re about to rot, girl?”

“Chop them into salad,” Pidge said, shrugging.

(She might as well save a few to give to her mother.)

The man stared at her, then shrugged and said, “If you take all of them off my hands, you can take them at half price.”

Pidge grinned, though after the grocer finished unloading his stall and left, she realized she had three heavy wooden crates of soft tomatoes and only two thin arms with which to carry them. She sighed and sat on top of a crate, her limbs heavy after traveling and her feet sore.

She tapped her fingertips against the wood, considering that it was unlikely crates of overripe tomatoes would be stolen if she left them unaccompanied. But before she could rush home to retrieve her brother to help her, a sudden and familiar voice startled her.

“I didn’t know you were coming to town, Pidge.”

She stood, wincing when her boot rubbed a blister on her ankle, and faced the perfect person for the task she needed done. “Hunk,” she said, smiling at him and offering a wave. “How’s everything at the shop?”

Hunk scratched at a stubbly chin. “Same as usual,” he said. “Shiro’s on a voyage now, so I have Keith staying with me.”

“That’s great,” Pidge said. “I haven’t seen him in a while either.” She propped her elbow on the topmost crate, leaning against them. “I’m here visiting my family, so—”

“Need help with those?” Hunk nodded towards the crates, then frowned. “You came on foot?”

“I’d rather walk than ride,” she admitted, wiggling her toes in her worn boots.  _And maybe fly too_ _…_

She shook the errant thought from her head, then said, “I can carry one.”

“I’ll get the other two,” Hunk said.

Pidge blinked at him, surprised. “Really? Two isn’t too heavy?”

Hunk smiled. “Pidge,” he said, “I’m a bear.”

Pidge bit her lip and sheepishly muttered, “Right…” She stepped away from the crates and lifted the top one, staggering backwards a few steps under its weight.

“Impressive,” Hunk said…as he bent down and picked up both of the other crates as if they weighed as much as the air that surrounded them.

Pidge scowled at him, already feeling the crate start sliding from her fingers, but led the way to her house.

At least for the first few seconds of the walk. Hunk’s longer stride quickly overtook hers, as comfortably as he carried two tomato-filled crates. He easily probed her with questions - about how she was doing by the lake, about any experiments of hers on the flora, about what the village was like and if she had plans for midsummer - while she struggled to answer, the single crate in her arms proving more burdensome than she’d hoped.

By the time they arrived at her family’s house - the very dwelling she grew up in - Pidge’s arms and legs trembled with the effort. The crate slipped out of her fingers, and she sucked in a grateful breath right as the door flew open.

“So you finally decided to grace us with your presence again, Pidge?”

Pidge rolled her eyes, but a smile pushed at her cheeks as she rushed up the walkway and threw herself at Matt.

He caught her against him, and then with her feet dangling spun her in a circle while she laughed. She felt light and warm, like a little girl she was just a short time ago all over again.

Matt set her down after a few circuits, so Pidge asked, “What’s keeping  _you_  from leaving?”

Apparently the lightness in her head affected her ability to speak tactfully.

Her brother’s smile faltered, but while Pidge held her breath and waited for an answer in the form of a reprimand, he glanced past her and called out, “Oh, you’re here for a visit too, Hunk?”

She exhaled in relief and turned to follow Matt’s gaze.

Hunk still stood at the end of the walkway beside the crate she’d dropped, the other two balanced on top of it. His hand was raised in greeting, and the light spilling out of the open doorway glinted oddly against his brown eyes. “I mean, I  _did_  just carry two crates full of tomatoes for Pidge, so I wouldn’t say no to at least a meal.” He grinned at Pidge.

She rolled her eyes and gestured for him to follow her up the walkway. “As long as you don’t expect me to do any cooking after traveling and doing heavy-lifting,” she said.

Matt turned to head back into the house - perhaps to warn their mother of the extra guest - but then he paused and looked over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “ _Tomatoes_?”

Pidge laughed and, suddenly feeling sheepish about her impulsive purchase, tugged at a loose thread on the end of her coat. “Overripe too,” she admitted.

Matt crossed his arms, then chuckled and observed, “Guess living so far away hasn’t changed you at all.”

* * *

 

As predicted, Pidge’s mother found a use for a whole crate of the tomatoes. Between sauces and preserves, she didn’t doubt that her father and brother would grow sick of the fruit within the next few days.

The other two crates were Pidge’s to play with, and after supper she invaded - with permission - her mother’s garden and set to work.

This late in the growing season most of the plants wilted, their leaves yellowed and brown. The ones that survived winters withdrew for hibernation, their life essence already buried so deep into their core that Pidge couldn’t detect it unless she focused. 

A weaker mage than she would think most of the garden dead, but without reaching out to the life hidden away, Pidge could still be fooled into thinking the same.

But when she closed her eyes, she sensed the roots still breathing and feeding under the soil, different systems intertwined and sharing nutrients. They all spoke to each other in their own simple language, one Pidge was only just beginning to understand.

In the city, it was weaker and quieter, and beyond her family there was no warm embrace of life to greet her despite the crowds. It was why she left to cultivate her craft, and why she was willing to endure one kind of loneliness to avoid another.

Besides, as she constantly reminded her parents and brother, she couldn’t write to the network of life that thrived without humanity like she could to them.

Pidge dug shallow scoops into the earth, placing a single sliced tomato in each one. Either a plant would sprout and bear fruit to feed her family or the fruit would decompose and feed the rest of the garden.

She worked silently and by the light of a lantern hanging from a nail driven into the back wall of the house. Candlelight also spilled from the window of the attached potions shop her parents owned, her father there filling orders he didn’t get around to during the day.

Pidge had offered to help when he stood up after dinner, unable to help noticing that his limp grew more pronounced every time she visited, but he’d smiled, patting her shoulder, and told her to relax and enjoy her tomatoes.

Her father retired comfortably from the military after a magic mishap when Pidge was still a small child, so the potions he and her mother mixed and sold served as more of a hobby than a livelihood thanks to the income the crown provided him for his service. But their lifestyle kept them busy, and if they hadn’t been able to spare her support here, Pidge would’ve been stuck in the city, the cultivation of her abilities be damned.

Pidge hissed at a sudden, sharp pain in her hand. She shook herself from the reverie she’d slipped into while planting and frowned at the blood oozing from a cut and staining the knife she was using the slice the tomatoes. She sighed, dropping that tomato before standing and retreating into her family’s home.

Matt and Hunk stood chatting by the lit hearth while her mother sat at the desk in the corner, shop accounts lying open while she updated them.

Pidge approached the hearth, and her eyebrows shot up at the sight of Hunk taking a bite right out of a tomato. The watery juice dribbled down his chin and soaked into his stubble, and she couldn’t help narrowing her eyes at him in mild disgust.

Hunk must’ve noticed, for he smirked at her and said, “I’m hungry.”

“We just ate dinner,” Pidge pointed out.

“That was an hour ago,” Matt mentioned pragmatically.

“Bears also eat a lot,” Hunk added.

“But that’s a  _tomato_!” Pidge argued, gesturing towards Hunk and eying her brother hoping he’d support her. “He’s eating it like it’s an  _apple_!”

“So?” Hunk said, rolling his eyes. “Also, Pidge, a tomato is a kind of berry, and I like berries. Besides, you’re a green mage, so shouldn’t you know this?”

Pidge rubbed her face, wincing at the sting in her hand and the realization that she’d just smeared blood on her cheek. She grimaced, staring at the smudge on her palm, but before she could do anything about it Matt grabbed her hand and brought it close to his eyes.

“What happened, Pidge?” he asked.

“I just cut myself,” she said, sighing. Exhaustion then hit her in a wave, threatening to drag her limbs down. It was almost too much effort to stand, so she collapsed into a chair and grumbled, “I still have so many tomatoes to plant.”

She heard the scraping of another chair’s legs against the wooden floor, and then her mother took her hand and wiped the blood away with a clean rag. “In the morning we can take you to a healer,” she promised. “Matt, get me a jug of water to wash it.”

“Mother, it’s just a shallow cut,” Pidge said, but she didn’t try tugging her hand away.

“And if you keep working in the garden it’ll get infected,” her mother chided with an arch of her brow.

Pidge was spared having to reply by Matt’s return. He cradled a ceramic jug of water in his hands and set it on the floor beside Colleen, who dipped her rag into the water and wrung it out before cleaning the cut on Pidge’s hand.

“Do you know any healing magic, Hunk?” Colleen wondered as Matt passed her a strip of white cloth.

Pidge winced as her mother tied the bandage securely between her thumb and forefinger and around her palm. It tugged uncomfortably at her skin and stuck to the cut, and a few drops of blood soaked into the fabric as she watched.

“I don’t, Madame Holt,” Hunk admitted with a sheepish smile. “A friend of mine does, but he doesn’t live in the city.”

“Allura knows healing magic,” Pidge said, wiggling her fingers. “She could’ve fixed this easily, but I at least know what to put in a poultice to fight infection.” She smirked at Matt, but he crossed his arms, looking unamused.

“Then you’ll have to heal the traditional way,” Colleen said with a sigh.

“It’s just a cut, Mother,” Pidge repeated, shoving down her impatience. “It’ll be healed by the time I leave the city again.”

Her mother frowned at her, then rolled her eyes and stood up. She rounded on Hunk and said, “Do you want to take any tomatoes with you when you leave?”

Hunk stared at her, slow to blink in his surprise that Colleen was almost  _eager_  to get rid of him. “Sure,” he said with a hint of caution. “Sometimes the ripe ones have worms—”

Pidge gaped at him, but he ignored her.

“—and I can take some to share with Keith and Shiro.”

“I thought you said Shiro’s on a voyage,” Pidge said.

“He’s due back tomorrow,” Hunk told her. Then his eyes lit up and he grinned at her. “You want to come by the shop in the morning? I’m sure Shiro would love to see you too when I go to port to meet him.”

Pidge smiled and agreed, “I’d love to! I’ll come by in the morning after breakfast.”

“Great,” Hunk said. “I’ll warn Keith, and maybe prepare a pastry for you to bring back.” He turned his glowing smile to Colleen, who didn’t even bother to disguise her impatience.

“That would be lovely, Hunk,” Colleen managed to say pleasantly, right before escorting him to the front door.

Pidge’s heart pounded, and she stared at her bandaged hand with wide eyes, wondering what sort of trouble she got herself into. Experienced adult mage or not, her family still insisted on treating her like a child when she returned home.

Pidge glanced at Matt, who smiled at her. When she glared at him, he raised his hands defensively and said, “They probably just want to talk to you without anyone else here.”

She heard laughter from the direction of the front door as her father returned and bid his own farewells to Hunk, but the obvious warmth exchanged did nothing to put her at ease.

When her mother returned with her father in tow, they settled into chairs across from her. Pidge hunched her shoulders under their scrutiny, feeling very much like a prisoner about to face interrogation.

“Why don’t you move back home, Katie?” Sam wondered.

_There it is._ “Do you need more help in the shop?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

“No, we’re fine,” he told her. “We’re just getting worried.”

Pidge held her hand up and scowled. “If this is about the cut, I’m not usually that careless.”

“ _U-usually_?” Colleen stuttered, her eyes widening.

Pidge’s cheeks flushed, but she kept her irritation in check. “I meant that I’m careful, Mother,” she said, then muttered under her breath, “Even when I’m cutting fruits and vegetables…”

“We’re just worried that you live alone in the middle of nowhere—”

“There’s a village a few leagues away,” Pidge pointed out, crossing her arms. “It takes only a couple hours to walk there.”

“And what happens when you’re hurt worse than ‘just’ a cut?” Sam inquired.

“Why would that even  _happen_?” Pidge threw her hands up, frustration making her tone shriller. “I don’t do anything more dangerous than fish in the lake when I want something richer than beans to eat! And I’ve only fallen in  _once_!”

That proved to be the wrong thing to say.

“You fell into the lake?” her mother nearly shouted, shooting to her feet.

Pidge raised her hands defensively. “And obviously I made it back out!” she retorted. “Luckily someone else was there and—” She cut herself off when she realized her defense only proved her parents’ point, but the damage was already done.

“This is why you shouldn’t live alone,” Sam said mildly.

Colleen sat back down with a heavy sigh. “And what if there’s an intruder, Katie?”

“You said it yourself, Mother,” Pidge interrupted. “I live in the middle of  _nowhere_. Who will want to break into my cottage? And for what? More plants than they can carry?” She breathed heavily, anger not quite spent, but pinched her eyes shut.

The evening started so well too, between the tomatoes and encountering Hunk and coming  _home_ …

Now all she wanted was to go to bed, to sleep away her travel exhaustion and escape to Shiro’s and Hunk’s shop in the morning before this argument could be repeated for the umpteenth time.

“Don’t you get lonely, Pidge?”

She exhaled slowly, bringing her breathing back under her control, and turned her head to look at Matt. “I’m fine,” she grumbled. “I have friends in the village.”

“And all you have at your cottage is your plants,” Matt said with a wry smile. “And how often do you see those friends anyway?”

Pidge bit her lip and struggled to remember the last time she saw Allura and Coran. Sometime during the summer, she thought, when they came by her cottage to pick up a few orders from her.

“You have conversations with your plants?” Matt asked, tone almost teasing.

“Sometimes,” Pidge admitted, ducking her head. “I keep a journal.”

“When was the last time you had someone  _other_  than your rare villager friends over for dinner?”

Pidge pressed her lips together, fighting a smile that seemed out of place in this situation. Warmth filled her chest at a memory, at odds with the sinking of her heart since it had yet to repeat.

Matt smiled at her knowingly. “Maybe you should think about bonding a familiar,” he suggested.

Pidge’s eyes widened. “What?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t it a pretty common practice with mages as strong as you?” He nodded towards the door. “Isn’t Hunk Shiro’s familiar?”

“Yes…” Pidge curled her hands into fists in her lap. “But I don’t know if I could trust someone like that.”

She didn’t make friends easily, the ones she  _did_  have made entirely by accident. Nature’s energy distracted her too much to properly  _bond_  with most other human beings, let alone with a powerful magical creature that would ever consent to becoming her familiar. To share and augment strength, to forge a bond so strong that only death could break it…and break  _her_.

Pidge swallowed, suddenly conscious of how sweaty her palm was underneath the bandage. The very thought of trusting someone - with her power, her strength, her very thoughts and emotions - so firmly, so absolutely, that she’d connect herself to them with ties more powerful and enduring than  _marriage_  made her stomach churn.

_Lore says dragons make strong and loyal familiars_ _…_

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought before she could follow it too far, then blinked when she recognized Matt had just asked her something.

“What?”

He rolled his eyes and wondered, “So who was the last person you had dinner with that wasn’t from the village?”

Pidge cleared her throat, conscious that even her parents leaned towards her, attentive to her answer. “The, uh, person that saved me from drowning in the lake.”

“What  _were_  they doing in the middle of nowhere?” Matt asked.

Pidge laughed. “Swimming in freshwater for the first time.”

Matt quirked a confused eyebrow at her, but before he could follow up with another question, a yawn split Pidge’s face. She covered her mouth with her uninjured hand and rubbed her drooping eyes.

“You’ve had a long day of travel,” Sam said after exchanging a quick glance with Colleen. “You should go to bed, Katie, and we’ll talk about this more while you’re still here.”

Pidge stood. “Looking forward to it,” she said, then escaped to her childhood bedroom before her mother could reprimand her for inappropriate sarcasm.

The room was bigger than she remembered, though that could just be because the bedroom in her cottage was barely wide enough for a bed and a small chest of drawers storing her clothes and more personal effects. And it looked much the same as she’d left it, with the same quilt - one she’d “helped” her mother stitch together - spread over the bed and the same painted ceramic pots arranged underneath the curtained window.

Now they sat empty even of soil rather than full of the life she’d once nurtured in them. She knelt in front of them and picked up the smallest one, colored an eggshell green with her name - “Katie” - painted in white. She’d planted the most experimental samples in this one, flora she’d been uncertain would take to the soil or the city’s climate even with her magic enticing it to grow. The ones that succeeded she’d either transplanted into a bigger pot for further observation or in her mother’s garden if she was confident they’d thrive.

They almost always failed if they made it to the garden, missing something that Pidge couldn’t give them no matter how hard she tried.

Pidge set the pot down, bleakly thinking that her craft would be reduced back to these small pots and the back garden if she let her parents have their way.

_But if I found someone to bond as a familiar_ _…_

Pidge refused to get her hopes up, but as she washed and dressed for bed, she couldn’t help imagining expanding her family to include someone else, and someone she wouldn’t have to leave behind when she finally, inevitably left the city again.

The fantasy lingered when Pidge closed her eyes, and she dreamed of blue scales and a warm smile.

* * *

 

A bell rang in greeting when Pidge pushed the shop’s door open, but no one stood behind the display case. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot before pacing and wondering if Hunk  _always_  left his wares unaccompanied like this.

Crystals and gems, perfectly cut for specific purposes, lay inside the glass cases. Some of the crystals glowed, infused with magic and ready to power anything from a clock to a lantern or for a mage to draw upon them for strength, but others were dun without an external light source to make them glitter. They were all pretty, but the dun ones only served an aesthetic function.

Ironically, the  _jewelry_  from here was the less expensive ware.

“Hunk!” Pidge called, growing impatient despite the blue Balmeran crystal that sparkled inside its own case.

“Coming!” she heard him reply from a back room.

Pidge sighed and leaned against the wall. She idly reached out, first towards the magic trapped in the crystals and gemstones - magic with a flexible purpose, unlike that which existed in everything else, harder to find and capture but easier to control - then towards the dried herbs and late harvest fruit stored in Hunk’s kitchen. 

_Are those_ _…mangoes?_ Surprised at the presence of the high-value fruit, Pidge wondered if it would be too forward to ask Hunk if she could have one, perhaps to plant the pit and see if it would take to the soil at her cottage and submit to her care.

Footsteps startled her into standing upright, and her eyes flew open and landed on Keith behind the counter.

His eyes gleamed, reflecting the light emitted by the crystals, as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Since when are you awake this early, Pidge?” 

Pidge rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face as she approached him. She flung her arms around his neck - though it required nearly jumping onto the counter separating them - and retorted, “Maybe I was just that eager to see you.”

Keith’s arms hesitantly returned her embrace, and as he patted her back he said, “Maybe, but it’s less than an hour after sunrise.” 

Pidge pulled away from him, once more standing on the other side of the counter as she straightened her crooked coat. “I’m trying to make the most of what little time I’m here,” she lied…though it wasn’t entirely untruthful.

Oh, she was definitely happy to be visiting Hunk, Keith, and Shiro along with her family - the unpleasantness of the previous night’s argument aside - but she wished she could escape her usual sleeping habits as easily as  _that_. Instead, it took a bizarre, obscure dream that she’d already forgotten to jolt her awake around sunrise and keep her from falling back into sleep. 

Pidge couldn’t tell if the pit of dread sitting in her stomach had anything to do with it either.

“Aren’t you worried someone will steal everything?” she asked Keith, changing the subject as she glanced around the shop.

“Hunk and I set wards,” he replied with a shrug.

Pidge crossed her arms and smirked. “Oh? Real wards, or does Hunk just set a pie out on the porch to make sure any thieves find that first?”

“Like I’d waste a good pie on thieves.” Hunk himself entered the front room from behind Keith, smiling in greeting and with his face freshly shaved. “What brings you by so early, Pidge?”

She sighed. “Not you too.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What? I wasn’t expecting you until at least midmorning, so I put off cooking breakfast.”

She leaned against the counter and grinned at her friends. “When is Shiro’s ship due?”

“Around noon,” Keith told her, offering a small smile of his own.

“Assuming the weather’s in his favor,” Hunk pointed out.

Keith snorted, his smile morphing into a smirk. “With Shiro, the weather is  _always_  in his favor.”

Pidge laughed and in the next few hours began to feel more at ease than she had since arriving in her hometown, but when Keith and Hunk started muttering to themselves, she grew annoyed. “What secrets are you telling without me?”

Keith rolled his eyes - at Hunk rather than at her, she thought - and said, “I have an experiment.”

Pidge blinked in surprise - she’d never taken Keith for the scientific sort - but leaned towards him eagerly. “What?”

Hunk, for his part, crossed his arms and frowned in disapproval. “I told you not to bring that thing here.”

“I needed your expertise with crystals,” Keith retorted. He then nodded at the backroom and told Pidge, “Follow me.”

Pidge did, glancing between Keith and Hunk and wondering what could have the latter so ill at ease that he’d refuse to tag along.

Inside the backroom, where work benches and storage cabinets lined the walls, uncut crystals and tools awaiting Hunk’s attention, Keith led Pidge to a display case in one corner. And at the sight of what lay within, her heart jumped into her throat. 

“Keith,” she said as she approached it and resisted the urge to press her nose to the glass, “is this a  _corrupted_  crystal?”

“It is,” Keith said with a sigh. “Hunk doesn’t like it here, even when I told him that I’m trying to heal it.”

Pidge stared at the violet crystal, saturated and pulsing with a dark light that shouldn’t exist in nature. And where she could sense the energy tucked away into healthy blue crystals, this one felt…different.

No, it didn’t  _feel_. It  _stole_  feeling, a pocket of emptiness contained inside a small glass box, and if she so much as quested towards it, her mind brushed against an eerie,  _alien_  nothingness that extended needy hands seeking something -  _anything_  - to fill it.

Pidge recoiled, even taking a step back, and despite her curiosity she understood Hunk’s unease. “I thought they were impossible to heal,” she told Keith.

“Supposedly,” Keith said. He crossed his arms, hunching his shoulders and glaring at the crystal like it personally offended him - and for all Pidge knew, it had. “But if Balmeran crystals can be corrupted, then there has to be a way to reverse it.”

Pidge smiled; she could easily admire and empathize with resolve like that. “Well, if Hunk eventually kicks you and the crystal out, you can bring it to my cottage. I love a good, risky experiment.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at her, as if unsure if she was being serious, but when she continued to smile at him, he laughed. “I might take you up on that some day, but for now, let’s go meet Shiro.”

* * *

 

Pidge’s breath caught in her throat the instant her eyes fell on the bay. 

Sunlight reflected off the crystalline water, ships gliding along its surface with sails full of the warm breeze blowing in from the south, and the road emerging from the city’s center leading down to port afforded them a perfect view of both water and the wide expanse of cloudless sky. It was almost enough to fool Pidge into thinking it was still summer, and it was almost enough to captivate her. But the familiar sight of the bay wasn’t what froze her in her tracks.

Glittering blue scales captured Pidge’s attention when a slender creature shot up from the waves. When its translucent wings spread, catching the wind and carrying it over the water, alarmed and awed shouts rose from the crowded port and the ships.

“Where did that dragon come from?” Keith asked, posture tensed for fight or flight.

Hunk, on the other hand, merely rolled his eyes. “It’s just Lance,” he said.

Pidge snapped her eyes onto him and demanded, “You know him too?”

Hunk frowned at her. “What do you mean  _too_?”

Her cheeks flushed for some  _bizarre_  reason, but before she could formulate an explanation, Keith interjected, “Let’s go! I think I see Shiro’s ship.”

Keith grabbed Pidge’s wrist in one hand and Hunk’s in the other, dragging them down the path and into the crowds that always infected port. But with a dragon sighting, it seemed worse than usual as everyone from merchants to passengers to crew members pressed towards the docks.

“ _Showoff_ ,” Pidge scoffed, but she couldn’t help enjoying the sight of a dragon at play in the bay, wings and feet and snout all sending up streams of water and shreds of kelp. She even spotted crew aboard the ships not yet at port pointing at the dragon, as fascinated as those without a job to do.

Keith’s sharp fingernails digging into her skin pulled her back to earth, and after a quick glance at him to take in his horrified face, she followed his gaze.

Smoke rose from the sails of a ship still halfway out of the bay.

“Oh,  _shit_ ,” Hunk cursed, tensing. “That’s Shiro’s ship!”

“Can you hear him?” Keith wondered. He held his hands out in front of him, poised to cast a spell - though from this distance it would prove ineffectual.

“There was a mutiny,” Hunk explained, his eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. “When the crew was distracted by the dragon, someone took the captain hostage and now a fight’s broken out on deck over the ship and the merchandise.”

“No,” Keith breathed. “We need to get out there and help.”

“How?” Hunk said. “More combatants will just make it w—” He cut himself off, his eyes wide as licks of orange flame chased darker plumes of smoke into the sky. “There’s a fire mage aboard,” he said, voice low and fearful.

“Then  _I_  can help if I’m there, Hunk!” Keith argued. “We’ll commandeer a rowboat—”

“You don’t know the first thing about boats,” Hunk pointed out.

“I’ll dive into the bay and swim out to the ship if I have to!” Keith stepped towards the nearest dock as if to do just that, but Hunk pulled him back by the arm.

“Shiro will be fine,” Hunk insisted with a pointed glare, “and he  _wants_  us to stay back. He has the power I can give him through the bond, and then…”

The blood rushing past Pidge’s ears blocked out the rest of the argument as she searched for something -  _anything_  - to do. And where once the dragon had attracted the attention of everyone in port, they started to yell and retreat as far as possible from the flaming ship bearing down on them.

A wide stream of water shot out of the bay and engulfed the ship.

Pidge held her breath, leaning forward to watch the dragon poke its head out of the waves and exhale a mist onto the ship. Smoke dispersed, flames snuffing out like they burned on a dragon-sized candle, and for a second Pidge thought the crisis was averted.

A great creak - a moan, a  _roar_  - traveled over the water, harsh on her ears and enough to send a shudder up her spine. And Pidge could only look on as the ship’s wood splintered, rending the whole vessel into two pieces that were quickly taking on water.

The ship would sink before it could reach port.

“Send out lifeboats!” Keith had resorted to shouting, likely hoping to catch the eye of the port’s security force.

But as Pidge watched the waves churn in a strange, unnatural pattern under the ship, under the influence of the lurking dragon, her mind quested out, touching the world beneath the surface of the bay.

A whole world teeming with life and  _energy_  lay just out of sight, far more than the city itself held even in midsummer. It whispered of sunken ships and drowned sailors, lost before the port flourished, but it spoke even louder of growth and strength and mending.

Pidge could feel the kelp forest, could sense its potential just as easily as she could see that the dragon’s efforts at holding the ship together would fail. It would take more than the water’s cooperation to rescue the ship, but perhaps between the two of them…

With her heart pounding, Pidge pinched her eyes closed and reached for the dead wood that formed the ship. Not even a single breath of life escaped it, but she could still sense its essence and the purpose it served - just like she knew the groaning of the planks were a symbol of mourning at their failure. But like energy fed like energy, and as she channeled all her strength into persuading the kelp - and thank the ancients kelp grew so  _fast_  compared to true plants - the lingering purpose within the ship drew the kelp towards it, begging for its help.

Kelp climbed the sides of the ship and wove around it, pulling the drifting pieces and securing them together. Pidge just barely heard the yells of the crew and mutineers, as if through the roaring of a waterfall, most of her focus and energy devoted on a single task.

A bead of sweat dripped down her face, and she was distantly aware of the familiar ache that came with drawing upon too much power at once. But if she let go of the kelp, let it fall back into the bay before the ship could limp back to shore, the vessel would sink while its crew awaited the slower rescue the port’s officials would send.

Waves enchanted by the dragon spurred the ship on faster than even a wind summoned by Shiro could. And where the spellbound water overlapped with the kelp under Pidge’s influence, a surge of energy hit her,  _rejuvenated_  her.

Like this, working with the dragon - working with  _Lance_  - more power lay at her fingertips than ever.

When the ship finally docked - when the city guard finally boarded it and arrested the would-be mutineers and the rest of the crew disembarked - Pidge withdrew her influence from the winding kelp, gasping at the severing of the connection, far too sudden to be comfortable - and harsher than she’d ever felt. Her chest ached, strangely bereft, as much as her body did, and it took all her willpower to stay on her feet.

But her head spun with dizziness, swaying so violently that Hunk had to tug her away from the edge of the dock before she could tumble into the bay.

“Pidge?” he said, snapping his fingers in front of her eyes and startling her into something resembling alertness.

She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn before trying to look past him. She squinted at the water, mind sluggish to comprehend what was different. “W-where’s Lance?” she muttered.

“Lance?” Hunk blinked at her, surprised, then glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Looks like he disappeared, and if he used as much energy as  _you_  just did”—he spun back around to face her—”he’s probably gone to get some rest somewhere.”

“Right.” Her heart sunk into her stomach, heavy with disappointment, and she stared at the planks of wood beneath her feet. “I-I wanted to talk to him before he left. I k-kind of missed him.”

Pidge barely knew what she was saying, too weary to even care what she confessed to.

Hunk crossed his arms. “Well, thanks to you and Lance, Shiro’s ship made it safely.”

Pidge nodded; it would take too much effort to acknowledge him in any other way.

“Daring rescue like that, the ship’s captain will probably want to thank you personally.” Then Hunk grinned and patted her shoulder before his gaze drifted to something behind her.. “Oh, and here’s Shiro now.”

Pidge turned, and the sight of Shiro safe and on land - or near enough - uplifted her enough that she mustered a smile. She gladly threw herself at him, pressing her face against his chest while he slowly returned her hug, his enchanted right hand rubbing her back.

“Thank you, Pidge,” he said.

“It was nothing,” Pidge said. She stepped away from him, though not too far since her knees buckled without the support of someone else’s arm.

Shiro raised an eyebrow at her. “You overextended yourself, didn’t you?”

Pidge grinned. “It was worth it,” she said, “and it wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

No, if not for Lance’s power overlaying her own, she probably would’ve passed out long before the ship could make port.

The thought alone was exhilarating and enough to make her heart pound in anticipation.

_I can_ _’t wait to work with him again,_ she thought, unable to help the goofy, excited smile that split her face.

A heartbeat later, black spots crowded her vision, and Pidge lost all sense of time and direction when she finally passed out, sinking into sleep before anyone could even catch her.

* * *

 

Pidge mentally reached out to the nearest plant life on reflex as she slowly drifting back into wakefulness, but when it took too long to touch the dormant flora in the garden, she remembered where she was.

She cracked her eyes, shielding them and wincing when the piercing light of sunset hit her through the window. Groaning, she rolled onto her side, thinking she might prefer the view of her bedroom door over a blinding light when her body still ached and her mind was still slow.

A familiar figure stood just inside the doorway, face shadowed until they stepped closer.

Pidge’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes shooting wide open as she slowly sat up, far more alert than she’d planned to be. “Lance?” she said. “What’re you doing in my room?”

Lance smiled at her, the sparse scales scattered over his cheeks shining just as prettily as she remembered. He approached and perched on the edge of her bed, then said, “I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, surprised and…elated. “Oh,” she said. She pinched her lip between her teeth, fighting a smile. “I…thank you.” Then she  _really_  allowed herself a good look at him. “Are those the clothes I loaned you?”

Lance plucked at the collar of the wool shirt with a laugh and admitted, “They are, and I think your brother recognized them.” He frowned at her. “You loaned me your brother’s hand-me-downs? I’m so disappointed in you, Pidge.”

Pidge snorted. “I’m sorry I held out on you,” she retorted, tone dripping irony.

“Good,” Lance said. “You should be.”

“Oh, yes, very.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful when perusing my vast collection of men’s clothing.”

“It’s all right, Pidge,” Lance said with a warm chuckle. “I accept your apology.”

Pidge smiled, but when silence descended, she toyed with the frayed end of the bandage still wrapped around her hand, seeking for something -  _anything_  - to say. She wasn’t sure what stopped her from bringing up their rescue of Shiro’s ship, but—

Lance’s hand wrapping around hers halted her thoughts in their tracks. She stared up at him in surprise when he brought her hand up closer to his face, reaching with the other to unwrap the bandage.

After examining her palm, he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “What did you do?” he wondered.

“Cut myself slicing tomatoes,” Pidge admitted.

“Oh.” Lance smirked. “I was expecting something a little more dramatic.”

She frowned at him, then suggested, “Like fighting pirates?”

“Or maybe dragon hunters.” Lance shuddered, his gaze briefly flicking up to her face before returning to her hand. “ _Those_  are the worst.”

“I’ll remember that next time I need a story behind a mundane injury,” Pidge said.

Lance nodded, most of his attention still on her palm. His fingers were warm cradling her hand, surprising her - but then again, he’d told her he was a warmblooded dragon.

“I’m still practicing this,” Lance said.

“Practicing what?”

Rather than replying, Lance slowly dragged a fingertip along the cut, warmth seeping into her skin along its path. Right before Pidge’s eyes, her skin stitched together until it scabbed over, and the brown of the scab faded into pink before nothing remained of the wound.

Pidge exhaled. “I didn’t know you knew healing magic,” she confessed softly.

“Comes with the water talent,” Lance said, shrugging. He smiled sheepishly, far more modest than she expected, and gently set her hand on her blanket.

Pidge didn’t know why she missed the heat of his hand, why she so badly wanted him to take her hand again, enough to lift her own and reach—

“So how many more times do I have to save your life, Pidge?”

Pidge dropped her hand, the feeling disappearing as suddenly as it came, and scowled. “For the ancients’ sake, it was just a cut!”

“And what if it got infected, Pidge?” Lance waggled his eyebrows at her.

It was obvious he teased her, but Pidge still felt a flash of irritation. She crossed her arms and grumbled, “And now you sound like my parents.”

“What? Why?” He rested his elbows on his legs, leaning a little closer to her.

Pidge sighed. “They’re looking for any excuse to convince me to stay here rather than going back to my cottage.”

(Why was she confiding in him? She barely knew him…)

“I accidentally told them about when I almost drowned, but maybe if I agree to live here during the winters they’ll relent.” She rubbed her face, almost as exhausted as if she was  _due_  to sleep, and wished that the winter solution appealed to her at all.

“Would it make a difference if I told them I like your cottage better?” Lance asked.

Pidge blinked at him, confused. “Better than what?” she said. “And why would that matter?”

“Better than this house,” he said, shrugging. “I understand that you grew up here, but it just doesn’t have the same charm as the cottage by the lake.” He smiled at her, then nodded at the collection of empty pots underneath the window. “No plants here, for one.”

“And for another?”

“Your cottage is closer to the lake than your family’s home is to the bay.”

Pidge laughed and said, “Of course you’d notice  _that_.”

Lance smirked and reminded her, “Pidge, I’m a  _water_  dragon. Even if it’s freshwater, I’d like to have it close. My life  _literally_  depends on it.”

Pidge smiled, but it faltered when she finally processed all his words. Her heart pounded, and she asked, “ _You_ _’d_  like to have it close?”

“Well, sure?” Lance frowned at her. “Whenever I visit, of course, if you’ll host me.”

Pidge snorted, but she rested a hand on her chest as her heart dropped in needless disappointment. “As long as you wear clothes,” she managed to tease.

Lance stretched his arms behind his back. “I’ve spent enough time around humans lately to understand the need for  _clothes_.” He rolled his eyes but smiled. “I can’t promise to bother with them while swimming though.”

“You swim as a dragon,” Pidge pointed out, “so it shouldn’t bother me.”

“I don’t know, Pidge.” Lance scratched his chin and averted his eyes as a slight flush filled his cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to try swimming in this human form.”

Pidge waved a finger in his face. “Not around me, you won’t.”

Lance muttered, “Fine.” But then he met her eyes. “By the way, you were brilliant today.”

The compliment filled Pidge with warmth. She rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze, and coughed. “I-it was an opportunity to test my limits,” she said in what she hoped was a nonchalant voice.

“Of course,” Lance agreed snidely. “Hunk  _did_ mention that you passed out right after.”

Pidge crossed her arms. “How do you know Hunk anyway?”

“Met him my first time in the city,” Lance explained with a grin. “It wasn’t long before I met you, actually…but don’t change the subject, Pidge.” He narrowed his eyes at her and prodded a finger towards her face.

Pidge shoved his hand aside and stuck her tongue out at him. “Now I know never to hold a ship together with kelp ever again,” she said.

Lance then grimaced, the negative reaction surprising her, and said, “That’s…something else I thought we should talk about.”

“What?”

“D-did you feel that too?” Lance wondered, voice pitched lower like they were exchanging secrets. “Did you notice when  _my_ magic—”

“—touched mine?” Her eyes widened as they met his, and she wasn’t sure if she imagined the very air between them crackling with energy. “Yes,” she admitted. “I-I didn’t think anything like that could happen except with a familiar…”

“I think it would be even stronger with a mage,” Lance said contemplatively.

Pidge swallowed, scenarios that seemed impossible just the night before swirling around in her head.  _Could_  she find a familiar? Could she bond  _Lance_?

She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it took root, deciding it was absurd. She hardly knew him and had only met him twice, which was scarcely a foundation on which to base a lifelong magical partnership. And all her experience observing plants and watching them grow under different conditions taught her that one sample of them working well together did not an experiment make.

She’d need at least three samples, she mused.

(Maybe the meal they prepared together last time would count for the first…)

“How did  _you_  feel afterward?” Pidge then asked, raising an eyebrow at him

Lance hunched his shoulders and confessed, “Exhausted.” A yawn split his face, and he reached up to cover it. “Still am,” he said, chuckling.

Pidge smiled. “We have a spare cot in the shop next door,” she said. “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind you staying the night.”

“Hunk’s already offered his spare bed,” Lance said.

“They have Keith over though,” Pidge said.

Lance crossed his arms, looking sulky. “I know,” he said, “but I guess since your mother’s already invited me for dinner—”

Pidge gaped at him, wondering what Colleen might’ve said to him and  _why_.

“—it’s not a bad idea.”

Pidge shook her head, wishing she could dislodge her worries so easily, but she smiled and said, “Sure. I suppose the longer you stay, the longer they won’t try to convince  _me_  to stay too.”

“You have ulterior motives for inviting me then,  _Katie_?”

Pidge’s neck was hot when she said, “Can you blame me?”

Lance chuckled and said, “I guess not. Good thing you make it worthwhile.” He then wrapped his arms around her, his warm body nearly engulfing hers.

Pidge recovered from her shock at the gesture quickly, eagerly returning the embrace and hoping it would be the first of many.


	3. The Casket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger visits the lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can also find the tumblr post corresponding to this chapter [here](https://sp4c3-0ddity.tumblr.com/post/173841025768/water-rescue-part-three)

There was little reason for Pidge to be so exhausted this early in the day, little reason but staying up too late and waking up too early. She dragged her feet through the village, plastering a half-hearted smile onto her face after knocking on cottage doors and waiting for a resident to greet her.

“I have your sleeping draft, Madame,” Pidge said when the baker’s wife opened her door. She offered the bottle to her, all while wishing she could uncork it and down its contents for herself, perhaps curl up on the porch beside the cat that, somehow, didn’t rouse at her approach.

“Thank you, Pidge,” said the baker’s wife after taking the bottle. “Did you add something to it to mask the taste?”

Pidge grimaced and admitted, “I forgot. I had to make several batches this time, so I couldn’t take special orders into account.”

Her customer sighed. “I guess it’s still worth it.” She then passed Pidge a few coins, which she carefully tucked into her belt pouch before picking up her steadily emptying bag and retreating back to the main road.

To her surprise, the cat followed her, nearly tripping Pidge as it tried to pass between her ankles. She cursed but caught herself after stumbling forwards a few paces, right as the cat froze, its amber eyes fixed on a point that she couldn’t see.

Pidge raised an eyebrow at it. “Did you spot a mouse?”

Predictably, the cat ignored her and darted away down the road, its bushy gray tail streaming out behind it.

Pidge took the opportunity the quiet moment allowed her to check her bag for the remaining orders she had to fill, and when she only spotted a few bottles, she smiled in relief. With luck, everything but one would take less than an hour to deliver, and after visiting Allura and Coran, she could be on her way home in time to get back by sunset. And then perhaps a nap before she tended to the garden, and then, maybe, Lance would finally arrive.

The thought of Lance brought both a flush to her face and a slump to her shoulders. He should’ve visited  _days_  ago, if the pattern held, and for every day he didn’t—

Pidge scowled, inhaling bracingly before setting her shoulders and continuing the rest of her tasks, pushing Lance from her mind and hoping he’d  _stay_  out until she had a second to spare.

When she was finally on her way to Allura’s, her bag far lighter than before, a gray blur skittered across her path.

Pidge stared as the cat pursued a white rat - no, a large, white  _mouse_  - with copious whiskers sprouting from its snout. Its pointed ears twitched frantically, but then it spun around, standing on its hind legs and facing down the cat.

The mouse sneezed.

The cat recoiled with an undignified, pained yowl, every hair along its spine standing on end. The mouse nodded as if satisfied, with its hands on its hips, its mannerisms eerily  _human_.

Pidge stifled a giggle, then approached the mouse, which peered up at her with beady blue-black eyes. “What did you do to it?” she asked.

“Taught it not to mess with me,” the mouse replied with a firm nod.

“I thought the village cats already knew not to  _mess with you_ ,” Pidge said.

“That one must not have gotten the message.” The mouse turned, falling back to all fours as it started in a different direction.

Pidge followed close behind, careful not to overtake it though the pace her stride set was greater. “I thought you preferred walking around the village in human form, Coran,” she said.

The mouse’s ear twitched. “I did, but then I remembered how much fun being so  _small_  is.” It squeaked, a sound which Pidge took as a strange, mousy laugh. “Why didn’t you remind me sooner, Number Five?”

(Pidge had no idea why Coran insisted on calling her that.)

She rolled her eyes and grumbled, “I’m not  _that_  small.”

“No, I suppose you haven’t been this small since you were a wee fetus in your mother’s womb,” Coran said cheerfully.

“I—”

“By the way, Number Five, have you been getting enough sleep?” Coran cut Pidge off, sparing her the need to formulate a reply. The mouse tilted its head back, pace faltering just slightly, and observed, “Your eyes are looking very droopy, and you’re dragging your feet.”

The comment stunned Pidge into a stop just a few yards away from Allura’s shop entrance. She rubbed her burning eyes with one hand and tightened her grip on her bag with the other. “I’m just a bit…worried,” she confessed carefully. “The life around the lake doesn’t feel as it should.”

It wasn’t all that bothered her, not when she hadn’t seen Lance in almost two months, but it was significant enough that she felt drained of energy most of the time.

Her damn sensitivity to nature sometimes worked against her as much as it strengthened her.

At a tug on her trouser leg, Pidge glanced down to see Coran standing beside her foot. “Ah, yes, I was wondering if I imagined that my garden isn’t doing well. Perhaps after you and Allura conduct your business, you can take a look?”

Pidge nodded. “Sure,” she said. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Coran left her at the door, slipping through a crack in the wall big enough for a rat-sized mouse but far too small for a short woman. And within a few seconds, the door opened in front of her, a tall man with neatly combed orange hair and a matching, bushy mustache smiling down at her.

At least  _he_  remembered to put on clothes before greeting her at the door…

“Welcome, Number Five, to Allura’s crystal shop,” Coran said. “How may we be of service today?”

Pidge snorted as she slid her bag down to rest in the crook of her elbow, already reaching inside while Coran shut the door behind her. “I’ve been here more times than I can count, Coran,” she reminded him.

“So you have,” Coran agreed, twirling the end of his mustache. “It still does to be polite when greeting potential customers.”

Pidge glanced around the empty shop, far smaller than Shiro’s and Hunk’s in her hometown, though it sold similar wares. The demand for Balmeran crystals in this village was nothing like it was in the city, and Allura didn’t have the skill to cut them like Hunk did. But she was far more adept at infusing them with magic, and individual crystals glowed so powerfully here that the shop needn’t bother with windows for sunlight.

“Who are you talking to, Coran?” a voice spoke up from the back, and Allura herself walked in, her heeled shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. She beamed as brightly as any crystal when her eyes fell on Pidge, her earrings glittering with stored magic. “Pidge! What brings you to the village?”

“Just deliveries,” Pidge said with a quick smile. “Yours are the only ones I have left.” She took the last few bottles from her bag and handed them to Allura, who tucked them into the voluminous sleeves of her dress without examining them.

“Well,” Pidge said, shouldering her bag again and stepping towards the door, “that’s everything. I should be—”

“Didn’t you ask her to check your garden, Coran?” Allura interrupted, frowning at her familiar.

Pidge tensed, stifling a sigh, and said, “Yes, he did. I’ll go do that now.” She swept past Allura, through the kitchen behind the shop, and out the door that led to the garden.

Behind her, she heard Allura ask, “What’s the hurry, Pidge?”

Pidge paused in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m just expecting company,” she said, shrugging and feigning nonchalance. “The idiot can’t be bothered to tell me dates anymore, so I have to guess.”

Never mind that, so far, her guess was several days off the mark than ever before.

Pidge swallowed the flash of anger and dismissed the unhappy thought that Lance might’ve simply not wanted to visit her anymore.  _He_ _’s probably just busy,_ she told herself.  _He has a big family; maybe a new niece or nephew hatched_ _…_

They were empty platitudes meant to comfort her, though sometimes they worked.

Now they didn’t, but they thought that he’d  _stop_  coming no longer made her heart sink. She  _knew_  he’d tell her if anything prevented or stopped him, so something must’ve happened.

Something  _awful_ , an emergency he couldn’t escape. Her palms grew uncomfortably damp, and she stared out at Coran’s garden with wide, unseeing eyes.

“Who are you expecting, Number Five?”

Coran’s voice pulled her out of her head and back to the present, and she turned to see him and Allura peering at her worriedly. She forced a smile onto her face and said, “Just Lance.”

“Oh,  _just_  Lance?” Allura grinned. “If it’s  _just_  Lance, then he won’t mind us keeping you for dinner, maybe even for you to stay the night, or—”

“No, I have to be home in case he comes today,” Pidge said, maybe a little too quickly judging by the slight widening of Allura’s eyes. Her cheeks warmed, and she amended, “I sleep better in my own bed.”

“With Lance?” Coran raised an eyebrow at her.

“What? That has nothing to do with it!” Pidge returned her attention to the garden and hoped neither of them could see how lividly  _red_  her face must’ve been.

“Perhaps it is for the best that you leave sooner,” Allura agreed, to her surprise. “There has been some…concerning activity around the lake of late.”

Pidge gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Finish your look at the garden,” Allura said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Then we’ll talk.”

Pidge scowled, but Allura retreated back inside before she could argue. So she closed her eyes and extended feelers towards the flora surrounding her.

Coran’s garden was well-tended, mostly vegetables and a few saplings that would one day bear fruit. He was practical - perhaps it was the mouse in him - and rarely planted anything for aesthetic value. But despite the season, no vines yielded flowers, and little new growth could be spotted.

When her magic touched the nearest grapevine, its energy recoiled in alarm. But Pidge coaxed it out within seconds, reading its fear of…corruption.

She repeated the process with most of the rest of the garden, sensing the same trepidation in each plant. They grew but little, their purpose altered so that they didn’t seek to bear fruit, only to survive. And when she crouched beside a tomato vine, funneling magic into it to convince it to flower, it took far more of her energy than it should’ve.

The garden was far from dead, but it behaved just like it was winter rather than spring.

Pidge stood and faced Coran, who watched her efforts with a clinical gaze. She rested a hand against her head at a sudden rush of dizziness, but when it passed she told him, “They’re afraid, so they’re still hibernating. My garden’s the same.”

“Afraid of what?” Coran wondered.

“Corruption,” Pidge said. She bit her lip, worried and wishing they could tell her more, but as her own garden knew little of the source, so did this one.

Coran sighed. “I suppose Allura and I will be relying more on the market for food this year then,” he complained.

Pidge snorted and didn’t bother pointing out that Allura was easily the wealthiest person she’d ever met, here or in the city.

She followed Coran back inside, prepared to leave until she spotted Allura approaching her with a bundled handkerchief in her hands.

“I didn’t pay you for the tonics earlier,” Allura said with a sheepish smile.

Pidge laughed and held out her hand, then raised a surprised eyebrow when Allura put a few coins rather than the handkerchief on her palm. “Thank you.” She slipped the coins into her belt pouch. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I…noticed your energy isn’t the same as usual,” Allura explained. “I fear that whatever’s affecting Coran’s garden must also be hurting you.”

Pidge blinked at her, stunned that she noticed - until she remembered Allura’s unique ability to read magic and energy. “Do  _you_  know what’s corrupting the lake’s flora?”

“I’m afraid that’s one thing I can’t glean,” Allura admitted, her eyes downcast. “But here.” She set the handkerchief in Pidge’s hand. “Use it carefully, but when you do drain it, I’ll be more than happy to refill it.”

Pidge unwrapped the bundle, her eyes widening as she laid them on a small Balmeran crystal set in a simple ring. It glowed as strongly as Allura’s earrings. “I…can’t accept this, Allura,” she said, glancing up at her. “This is too generous, and—”

“Take it,” Allura insisted. “I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

Pidge grinned, excitement taking root at the prospect of using the crystal. She’d never used one before and, once she accepted Allura’s generosity, was eager to try it on her way home.

“And, Pidge…” Allura sighed. “Warn Lance.”

“Of what?”

“There’s been some strange activity around the lake and in the village,” Allura said. “I suspect at least some of it is due to dragon hunters.”

“ _What_?” Pidge wrapped her fingers around the crystal as her heart skipped a beat.

“One of them came into my shop,” Allura said, her eyes narrowing. “He had the audacity to think I’d sell him one of my crystals or tell him anything about rumored dragon sightings.”

“Y-you didn’t…”

“Of course not!” Allura said. “Despite his…inappropriate flirting when we met, I’d hate to see anything bad happen to him.”

Pidge couldn’t help her scowl and stab of irritation at the reminder. The first time she brought Lance to the village, he’d been quick to try his hand flirting with Allura, practically  _preening_  and tilting his head in a way that his scales caught the sunlight. Allura herself was quick to disabuse him of any notion she was interested, and even later Coran provided him with a stern  _chat_.

(Pidge never expected to see the day that a mouse intimidated a dragon.)

Not that the memory mattered  _now_. It had been almost a year since then, and Pidge had another dilemma on her hands.

Her heart pounded as a new fear took hold. “I have to go then,” she told Allura and Coran. “I have to tell him.”

_If he was my familiar, I could_ _’ve warned him already._

Pidge cursed herself for her own cowardice, that she couldn’t bring herself to ask last time she saw him. She’d never put it off again, she decided; in fact, it would be the first thing she asked  _this_  time.

“Then go,” Allura said, understanding in her smile. “And come back again soon so we  _can_  invite you for dinner.”

Pidge grimaced, remembering the last time she ate Coran’s cooking, but she said, “I’ll look forward to it.”

After a quick, warm hug from Allura, Coran guided her to the door. As she stepped outside, he said, “He won’t say no.”

Pidge stiffened and glanced at him. “Who won’t say no to what?”

Coran smiled. “You know.”

“I—”

He shut the door in her face.

Pidge frowned at it, then spun on her heel and stalked down the main road. She set a quick pace, slipping the crystal ring onto a finger and stuffing the handkerchief into her belt pouch.

She struck her usual path out of the village and around the lake, sticking within the shade of the short trees that grew in the marsh. Her feet sank into soft ground and roots stuck out, threatening to trip her if she didn’t watch her step.

The whole marsh and the outlying forest seemed… _depressed_. They didn’t flourish like they should in the spring, greens muted into browns and yellows while branches and tendrils drooped.

This depression - this  _corruption_  the flora whispered about when Pidge prompted them with her magic touch - affected even the creatures of the marsh. No moths or butterflies fluttered through the air, no frogs lurked in the ponds, and no squirrels skittered over tree trunks.

The eeriness filled Pidge with a sense of foreboding, and between that and her new fears for Lance, she hiked as quickly as her strength allowed her. Even with the crystal Allura gave her, Pidge didn’t want to use the magic encased within except as a last resort.

She was less than halfway home, barely an hour shy of sunset, when voices drifted across the marsh.

Harsh, male voices, Pidge observed, and they were loud and  _brazen_  enough to set her on edge. She slowed her approach and ducked behind a tree, peering around it.

“Haxus, why is it that we are not yet out of the marshes?” the first man asked.

The tallest frowned at a parchment map spread between his hands. “I may have underestimated the distance between the lake and the travelers’ road,” he said mildly.

The first man piped up, “I see no reason we can’t camp here.”

The taller man grumbled, “You really want to spend one more night in this godforsaken marsh, man?” He nodded towards what looked like a long, water-filled box at the edge of the clearing. “No, the sooner we return to Daibazaal with our living quarry, the better it’ll be for our pockets. If it gets any weaker, I fear it won’t be worth as much.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes at the  _thing_  the man indicated. It lay in heavy shadow beneath a taller tree, and when she couldn’t make it out, she reached out to the tree, probing it for answers and trying to see what it did.

Trees were surprisingly verbose for flora and could even hold simple conversations, their thoughts more complex than those of smaller, faster growing plants. But rather than bare speech, all Pidge sensed from it at first was  _anxiety_.

Pidge flinched away from it, the feeling making her heart pound and stomach churn, but she pressed the tree for details.

 _Bleeding dragon,_ it replied.  _Weaker than a seedling._

Pidge’s eyes shot open as she gasped, horrified at what the tree showed her. “ _Lance_ ,” she hissed, fingers curling around the trunk of the tree she hid behind. Something hot and angry twisted in her gut, replacing her fear with an urge to move and to  _fight_.

But she forced herself to take account first, to observe and to gather information. She couldn’t just draw energy from the crystal ring, couldn’t just call upon the weak flora in the marsh to capture the two men before her, not when they somehow incapacitated a dragon.

They were dragon hunters, just like Allura warned her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, blood rushing and feeding her limbs strength that she shouldn’t have after so little sleep and so long on foot. And Pidge realized that Lance could’ve avoided this if only she bonded him when they had the chance.

Pidge closed her eyes again, reaching out to the vegetation that grew in the marsh, to the creepers and vines that wound around tree trunks and branches and extended across the rare footpath, lying in wait to trip and tangle unsuspecting travelers.

But with the flora so dormant of late…

 _Wake,_ she bid the vines in the trees overhead.  _Creep, tangle, bind_ _…_  She reminded the sleeping vines of their purpose, to ensnare and to entangle, to wind and to  _strangle_. Then, when too few responded to her call, when only the youngest and weakest met her request, she inhaled.

Magic funneled from the crystal ring into Pidge. A soft gasp escaped her at the sudden rush of energy, but before she could revel and truly  _enjoy_  it, she expelled it into the world around her.

Creepers burst from tree branches and shot down towards the men making camp beneath. They screamed in alarm as thick tendrils wound around their arms and legs, binding them tightly to their bodies.

Pidge’s lips twitched up into a smirk as she half-watched, half-felt the vines pulling the men up into the trees, the contents of their pockets falling to the ground below. She bid the vines to tie the dragon hunters to the trunks and to keep them there, feeding them extra energy from the crystal ring to hold them while she redirected her attention onto something - some _one_  - more important.

“Lance!” Pidge shouted, dropping her bag and sprinting across the half-built camp towards the box. She knelt beside it, inspected what now looked like a glass casket filled with water, and touched Lance’s cheek.

He lay in the water like the glass casket was his bathtub, eyes closed as if he slept. His scales looked unhealthy and  _wan_  without their usual glimmer, his skin pale and clammy. An arrow stuck out of his shoulder, oozing dark blood into the water.

Pidge reached into the water, intent on taking his hand and doing  _something_  to revive him, but then an awful, barely familiar  _emptiness_  touched the edges of her mind.

She flinched away, shaking her hand in an attempt to dispel the feeling, and stared at the hungry center of that vacancy.

The arrowhead half-buried in Lance’s shoulder pulsed with an ugly violet light.

Pidge resisted the urge to stumble away at the sight of the corrupted Balmeran crystal, its negative energy so different from that of the crystal on her finger. It explained how two mere humans - how  _dragon hunters_  - could’ve subdued him, but—

“I’m sorry, Lance,” Pidge muttered, swallowing around a sudden lump in her throat. “I should’ve asked you last time.” She gritted her teeth and gripped the arrow’s shaft as close to the head as she could get without her skin brushing the corrupted crystal.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep, gravelly voice spoke from behind her.

Pidge froze, heart jumping into her throat.

She’d missed a dragon hunter.

“I need the dragon alive, you see,” the voice explained, “and if you pull that arrow out, it’ll bleed to death within minutes.”

Pidge stood slowly and turned to face the third dragon hunter, her mouth set into a scowl and her heart pounding furiously. She reached for the vines again, saw them begin to descend on the man, eager to tie him to his companions.

The dragon hunter narrowed his single eye at her.

Pidge pulled magic from her crystal ring.

The vines grew, wrapping around one of the man’s arms. But he growled, a spark flashing between his fingers before he lashed out.

A burst of flame erupted from his hand, igniting the vines and breaking their grip on him.

Pidge’s eyes widened, recognizing a fire mage, but she refused to be cowed. She forgot all wariness of overtaxing herself, drawing as much of the ring’s magic as she could hold, and threw it into the marsh.

The flora burst into life, trees all but  _glowing_  with a fresh green while vines and creepers dangled to the ground below. Roots creaked, their ends thrashing out of the wet ground and scrambling for a new hold.

The dragon hunter - the fire mage - before her only hesitated for an instant before he conjured fireball after fireball, meeting Pidge’s efforts blow for blow. “A child, I thought,” he said, grunting with effort, “but a talented tree talker after all.”

Sweat dripped down her brow, limbs heavy, and her attacks started to weaken as she breathed heavily. Likely as not, the fire mage had a healthy Balmeran crystal of his own, and she needed to end this quickly.

But before Pidge could brace herself for one last, more powerful attack, he pushed towards her. She jumped away from him, but she wasn’t fast enough.

A large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her breathing. He lifted her into the air, his single eye focused on her face with a glare.

Pidge tried to cough, tried to pull air in through her nostrils, but she couldn’t. Instead her lungs ached, her head light while dark spots crowded her vision.

“The dragon is  _my_  quarry,” said the fire mage.

His hand grew hot, scalding her skin, but she couldn’t even draw the air she needed to gasp at the pain.

Then the mage’s eyes widened, his grip on Pidge’s throat slackening, and his fingers uncurled.

Pidge fell, gasping for breath and dropping to all fours as the mage crumbled before her. He put a hand to his chest, and when he pulled it away it was covered in blood.

“Who…?” he said, tone hollow.

A figure stood over him, glaring down at the dragon hunter, a dagger dripping blood in their hand. “Pidge,” they said.

Pidge fought through her exhaustion to stand. She leapt forwards, catching Lance right before his knees buckled. He leaned heavily against her, so she slowly lowered them both, helping him lie down and pillowing his head in her lap.

The arrow still stuck out of his shoulder, the corrupted crystal staring up at her with an evil gleam.

Lance found her hand first, but his grip on her was weak -  _too_  weak. “A-are you all right?” he asked her, sounding faint.

“I’m fine,” Pidge said, her voice hoarse. “I’m exhausted, but I’m  _fine_.”

“Good,” Lance said. He smiled warmly up at her. “Sorry I’m so late. Hunters caught me with my pants down…”

“Shh, you’re fine.” She interlaced their fingers together and rubbed a burning eye. “I-I need to fix you. I need to get that arrow out of you—”

“Bleed out f-fast if you do,” Lance argued.

“Th-then take this.” Pidge tugged the crystal ring from her finger, but she hesitated before she could slide it onto one of his. “I-it’ll get corrupted if I give this to you without pulling out the arrow, Lance.”

“Water might help,” Lance suggested.

Pidge searched around for her discarded bag, but Lance grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

“Not to drink,” he said with a weak chuckle.

“Then…? They had you in a water-filled casket.”

“This stupid crystal’s killing me,” Lance explained. “The water was the only thing keeping me alive.”

Pidge blinked hot tears from her eyes. “I’ll get you back,” she decided, glancing over her shoulder. But she sighed when she saw how far away the casket was. “Once you’re back in water, then we can figure something out.”

“Pidge…” She spun back around when cool, gentle fingers brushed the hot skin on her neck. “He hurt you too.”

“I’ll be fine,” Pidge insisted. “Right now, I’m more worried about you. We need some way to boost your strength and then—”

She knew how she could do it without water.

Her eyes widened in realization, the idea captivating her. It was the only way, but…

“Lance,” she said, carefully cupping his cheeks and meeting his eyes. “I-I need you to let me bond you.”

His jaw dropped, surprisingly comical despite their situation. “A-as your familiar?”

Pidge bit back a reflexive, sarcastic response and said, “Yes. It might be the only way, but I can’t without your—”

“Yes.”

“What?” Pidge stared at him. “Lance, you -  _we_  can’t take something like that back, and if one of us dies—”

“Pidge,” Lance said, coughing, “I’m dying. And even if I wasn’t, I’d still…say yes.” Color entered his cheeks, his face warming under her hands.

Pidge gaped at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. D-do you know what to do?”

Her eyes still wide, but with her heart pounding, Pidge shook her head. Then she admitted, “I think I can guess.”

“D-do it then,” Lance said before another fit of coughs seized him.

Pidge’s chest ached seeing him in pain, but she had to shove that aside to perform the task at hand. She pulled all the magic that remained in the crystal ring, closing her eyes as it filled her, then reached for Lance’s consciousness the same way she would reach for flora.

Where most people would have some sort of block between their minds and the rest of the world, Lance’s opened easily when she probed. His mind touched hers, tendrils of thought surrounding her without overwhelming, all manner of emotions filling the space between them.

In exchange, Pidge opened her own mind, trusting someone with the deepest parts of herself for the first time in her life. She let him see her fear for him, her anger at his tardiness, her jealousy about Allura. And in him she read his fury at seeing her in danger, his regret over not coming back sooner, and…something so warm and soft Pidge wished she could weave a blanket from it.

Memories that didn’t belong to her unfolded before her mind’s eye, of playing in a bay with small fishing boats bobbing on the iron-gray waves, of chasing hatchlings over glaciers, of sitting around a fire tended by a tall woman with blood-red scales under her eyes.

(She wondered what memories of hers Lance saw.)

Energy flooded her veins, making her shudder. Her eyes shot open as she gasped, surprised at how  _rapidly_  strength returned to her limbs, and when she looked down at Lance he met her eyes with his own wide.

He took her hand in his and rested her palm over his wildly beating heart.

Pidge held her breath and leaned down to press her lips to his forehead. “H-how do you feel?” she said, her voice low so she wouldn’t disrupt the strange and sudden peace that fell over them.

“Amazing,” Lance breathed. “I think I can heal myself now if you take out the arrow.”

“O-oh,” Pidge said with a nervous laugh as she straightened. She’d nearly forgotten the corrupted crystal stuck in Lance.

“I don’t blame you,” Lance commented. “That was… _a lot_  to take in.”

Pidge frowned. “Blame me for what?”

“Forgetting the crystal.” Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you not—”

Pidge sighed and said, “We have a telepathic bond too.”

“Oh, then… _oh_. That’s going to be…hard to deal with.”

“According to Hunk, we’ll learn how to use it,” Pidge promised. “For now, we need to heal you.”

“Don’t touch the crystal,” Lance reminded her.

Pidge took the arrow’s shaft in her hand again, wary of the emptiness that threatened to suck the magic from her if she touched it, then pulled.

Lance inhaled sharply, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye while more blood soaked into his shirt. Then his hand covered the wound, and he breathed out.

Pidge winced, feeling his pain through their new bond, just as she could feel him pulling magic away from her to heal his injury. She distracted herself by finding the handkerchief Allura gave her earlier and wrapping the bloody, corrupted crystal with it.

“I think I’ll need to head back to the village,” Pidge said, sighing. “Someone will have to get those dragon hunters down from their tree, and I want Allura to take a look at this.”

Lance smiled in relief, his hand falling away from his shoulder. He then sat up, tugging at the collar of his shirt and peeking in. “I’m healed,” he told her cheerfully. “Want to see?”

Pidge flushed. “I think I’ll take your word for it, Lance,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Suit yourself.” Lance glanced at her. “Your turn now.”

“My—”

Two cool fingertips touching her neck cut her off, the warmth of a healing spell seeping into her skin and soothing the burn. When Lance dropped his arm with a satisfied smirk on his face, Pidge reached up and felt the fresh growth of skin on her neck, her eyes wide.

She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, not when she now had a direct link to his thoughts.

Then Lance asked, “Wait, what’s this about the village?”

“I need to go there.” Pidge stood up, brushing dirt from her trousers and shirt, then offered Lance a hand. “And since it’s so late, I’ll have to spend the night too.”

“I wish I could fly you,” Lance said, eyes downcast, “but even with the new bond, I don’t have the strength to shift into the dragon.” He took her hand, but after she pulled him to her feet he didn’t let go.

“That’s fine,” Pidge said, though her feet already ached at the thought of the long walk ahead of her. “I’m sorry to cut your visit short.” Her heart sank, and she thought,  _This is rotten_ _…_

Lance tilted his head, an eyebrow quirked. “Visit?” He laughed, a stray thought of  _I thought she was smarter than this_  radiating from his mind. “Pidge, you’re stuck with me now.”

“I…what?” Pidge stared at him, confused, but then her heartbeat sped up. “I-I am?”

Lance laughed and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, making her flush from head to toe. “I’m your familiar now, remember?”

Pidge’s jaw dropped, and she uttered a soft, “Oh.” Then she smiled, so wide she thought her face would ache if she held it for long, and cupped Lance’s cheek with the hand not currently encased in his fingers. “Then I don’t mind being stuck with you after all.”


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge struggles to adjust to her new bond with Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disgustingly sweet and fluffy except for the Surprise Angst at the beginning
> 
> ~~This is the sort of stuff i write when it's midnight and i want them to kiss~~

Pidge kept a journal to document all the strengths, weaknesses, and _quirks_ she and Lance discovered in the new bond tying them together, but when she told him about it…

“Can’t you just ask Shiro and Hunk?” Lance wondered. He stood in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards and learning her cottage as well - and possibly better - than she did. “Or Allura and Coran, since they live much closer.”

Pidge frowned at him. His back was to her, but she didn’t need to see his face to know his thoughts. Why did he have to emit them so _loudly_?

_Am I just an experiment to her then?_

Pidge swallowed and carefully explained, “Not everyone’s experience is the same, Lance. No two pairs will have the same relationship either, whether personally or professionally—”

“We have a good _professional_ relationship,” Lance interrupted snidely, then brought a jar up to his nose and sniffed. “What is this anyway? And why can’t you _label_ anything?”

Pidge laughed. “It’s cinnamon.”

“Cin—” Lance peered through the jar with one eye, the other pinched shut. “Oh. I don’t know why I expected cinnamon to be sweet.”

“It’s mixed with sweets,” Pidge suggested, shrugging. She then pointed at him with a quill, ignoring the ink dripping onto her open journal, and said, “And you are _not_ changing the subject.”

“All right, fine.” Lance capped the jar and returned it to the cupboard. He approached her and perched in the chair opposite her, then rested his hands on the desk and pressed his fingers together. “Tell me all about your experiment.”

“It’s not _exactly_ an experiment,” Pidge said with a sheepish smile. “It’s just…I want to know what all we can do, both together and not, especially since it’s both of our first…partnership.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“What else would we call it?” Pidge wondered, blinking at him in surprise. “It’s not exactly a _friend_ ship, and I’m not sure we count as family either…so what’s left?”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Now that you explain it like that, partnership is perfectly fine.” _Not quite at the_ other _thing yet_ _…_

“What other thing?” Pidge demanded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Lance jumped, face flushing, as if he’d been caught doing - or _thinking_ \- something he shouldn’t have. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Lance,” Pidge said sternly, “I can _literally_ see into your head, and I think it _does_ matter.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about it?” he retorted. He crossed his arms and scowled down at her journal. “Does this…open mind thing ever get better?”

Pidge rubbed her face, suddenly exhausted. “Allura promised we’d learn to control it, so we could contact each other at will.”

To her surprise, Lance smirked. “Aha! So you _are_ relying on other people for _experience_.”

Pidge smacked her forehead, growing frustrated with him. “Of course I am!” she said, throwing her hands up. “I’d be an idiot not to! It’s just that I want to understand it through _my_ and _your_ experiences too!” She stood up, unable to control stray, _irritated_ thoughts that set Lance’s mind into a worried and _anxious_ buzz. But rather than pausing to reassure him - that of _course_ she didn’t regret bonding him; why would she? - her anger drove her into her bedroom.

She slammed the door shut and collapsed face first onto her bed.

Only, it wasn’t _her_ bedroom or _her_ bed, not anymore.

Pidge never could tell how she felt about that. Sometimes Lance’s presence - both in the cottage and in her mind - felt like a balm on her soul, a warm embrace on a cold day, but others, like now…

She still preferred his company far more to being alone, but now she had the added problem of disentangling and examining her feelings towards him while he possessed a direct line into her mind. _Why can_ _’t I tell him? Would it be so bad for him to know that I l—_

A soft knock from the door interrupted her half-formed thought, and by the time she rolled onto her side and sat up, Lance said, “Pidge? I’m going down to the lake. Do you need anything?”

Pidge shook her head.

“You’re shaking your head, right?”

She covered her face, muffling an involuntary laugh. “Yes, Lance,” she said, “I shook my head.”

“All right, just making sure.”

As his footsteps retreated from the door, Pidge called out, “Be careful! We don’t know if there are more dragon hunters lurking around.”

“Don’t worry, Pidge,” Lance fired back. “I know I can call you this time.”

“Y-you can,” she agreed, though her heart sank with dread, the memory of Lance lying prone and unconscious with a corrupted Balmeran crystal embedded in his skin never far from her mind.

“I’ll check in with you every ten minutes then,” Lance said, and she could practically _hear_ him rolling his eyes at her, his very mind reeking of exasperation.

“See that you do,” Pidge said.

“Just…anything for you, Pidge,” Lance said, his tone making her breath catch more than any errant thought could.

The front door shut behind him, and Pidge finally emerged from her bedroom. But by the time she sat back at her desk, her concern for Lance distracted her from getting any work done. Even this new endeavor of hers - tracking the discoveries she made about their bond - couldn’t occupy her. Instead she rearranged everything in her kitchen, awaiting every one of Lance’s check-ins.

_“Peaceful day,”_ Lance said. _“Maybe you’d like to join me?”_

Pidge snorted; she’d never _deliberately_ swum in the lake before and saw no reason to change that now. _“Is it cold?”_

_“For me? Not at all. For you? Probably.”_

Pidge laughed as she inspected a jar of turmeric - also unlabeled. Then an idea struck her, but she stifled it lest Lance catch it before she could act.

Pidge lost herself in the new task, and by the time Lance pushed the cottage door open, black ink streaked her face and stained her clothes. She was likely desperately in need of a bath, or at the very least a good wash, but all the jars both in and out of the kitchen were now labeled.

_What_ _…is she doing?_

Pidge held up a ceramic jar of dried garlic, a grin stuck to her face even as Lance met her eyes.

He glanced around the kitchen, scanning the jars of spices and herbs and seeds, and said, “Is that why you didn’t reply to the last few check-ins that _you_ insisted on?”

Pidge’s face warmed under his scrutiny. “Probably,” she admitted, “but…” She pushed the jar of garlic into his hands. “I labeled everything.”

Lance’s eyes widened, his own face flushing red. His clothes, drier than his skin, clung to him in a very _flattering_ way, and his hair was damp, and…

“D-did you swim in human form?” Pidge wondered, gaping at him.

Lance stared at the jar…and anywhere but at her. “I did,” he said. “I’ve been doing that sometimes, because…just getting used to it, I guess.” _You don_ _’t really have a dragon-sized bathtub, Pidge._

“Does _anyone_ have a dragon-sized bathtub?” Pidge asked.

Lance chuckled. “If they do, I’ve never met them.”

Pidge smiled. “Did you want to take a bath then?”

“No,” he said, “but I think you might.” He then licked the pad of his thumb and swiped it across her cheek.

Pidge held her breath, heart hammering when he stepped closer to her and thoughts grinding to a halt.

Lance’s gaze flicked down. _I want to kiss her so badly_ _…_

Pidge licked her lips and, somehow, managed to say, “Why don’t you?”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, seconds before he cupped her face with a hand and the tips of his long fingers found their way into her hair. He tilted her head back and leaned down, and Pidge couldn’t help her shallow, surprised gasp when his lips touched hers.

_I don_ _’t know what I’m doing._

Lance’s thought slipped directly into her mind, emboldened her to move her lips against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, but when their noses bumped, they parted.

Pidge laughed breathlessly, her eyes meeting his. “I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” she said. “All I really know is that I want to do it with you.”

Lance’s arms slipped around her waist, tugging her so close that she could feel the dampness of his skin through his clothes. Her whole body flushed in response, but she forced her mind to stay in the moment, to not wander further than _now_ , not when—

“We can figure it out together,” Lance said, his grin wider than she’d ever seen it.

The sight warmed her heart, but… _Kiss me again._

Lance did, this time not so tentatively. Her eyes slipped shut as he leaned into her, pressing her backwards until she hit the kitchen counter.

_Why didn_ _’t I do that sooner?_

“Maybe I’m better at hiding what I’m thinking than I thought,” Pidge murmured against his lips.

“And what were you thinking?” Lance asked.

“You know now,” Pidge replied. She kissed him, trying to pour all her feelings and _fondness_ into the contact, so much that her head spun and—

Lance pulled away, but lingered near enough that his warm, rapid breaths caressed her face. “Breathe, Pidge,” he said, chuckling as he reached up to touch her face.

Pidge blushed - apparently it was possible for her to grow _warmer_ \- and leaned into the touch. “I-I’ve heard of mages and familiars being as close as lovers before,” she confessed, keeping her voice low. “Keith’s parents, for example, but…I never thought it would happen like this.”

“Like what?” Lance blinked at her.

“Like…” Pidge shrugged, then smiled. “Or maybe I just never thought it would happen to me.”

Lance rested his forehead against hers, inhaling deeply - _does she know how good she smells?_ \- with his soft eyes on hers. “So maybe the best idea I ever had was choosing _this_ lake to be my first freshwater swim.”

Pidge giggled and wondered why she let him have such an effect—

_It_ _’s because you love me, obviously._

Pidge smiled. “I do,” she said. She kissed his cheek and muttered, “I love you, Lance.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead, filling her chest with a warmth quite different from that lingering on her skin. “I love you too, Pidge. And I want that _other thing_ with you.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “What other thing?”

“You know…”

“I think I do,” Pidge agreed with a furrow of her brow.

“But just…promise me something first, Pidge,” Lance said.

She stared up at him, eyes wide and waiting. “Anything.”

Lance scratched his ear, his gaze darting away from her before landing back on her face, and said, “Promise you’ll keep _this_ part of our… _partnership_ out of your journal.”

Pidge laughed and said, “I promise.” She slipped her hands up, burying her fingers into his soft hair as she pulled his head down. “Now give me something worth keeping out.”

Lance captured her lips again, stealing her breath just like he did when they first met.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it, remember that comments are Wonderful to wake up to


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